


Rainbows, Rockets, and Did Someone Say Pie?

by Yarol2075



Series: Rockets, Rainbows, Cupcakes, and Pie. [3]
Category: Captain Scarlet - All Media Types, Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Fishler is a Menace, Fluff, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Scott Tracy, Multi, Platonic Relationships, Please Heed Author's Notes, Self-Doubt, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yarol2075/pseuds/Yarol2075
Summary: Snippets and Vignettes from various times and stages of Scott Tracy and Conrad Turner's relationship.
Relationships: Conrad Turner & Juliette Pontoin, Scott Tracy/Conrad Turner
Series: Rockets, Rainbows, Cupcakes, and Pie. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648186
Comments: 28
Kudos: 19





	1. Hospital Stay

Scott rose to consciousness slowly, first aware of a quiet beeping, then an antiseptic smell, a less than comfortable bed, and finally lights dimmed. There was a weight across his mid-section that was warm. He blinked once, twice, to clear his vision.

Ah, the weight made sense now. His Conrad was in a chair pulled up to close to the bed, his head resting on the bent arm that was not flung over Scott’s stomach.

Scott was dimly aware he may have woken up before, but his memories were confused and clouded, and Conrad had not been in them. This was an improvement.

“Hey” he said or tried to; it came out breathier and raspier than he intended. And quiet. So he tried again, this time moving a hand to jostle Conrad’s arm, “Hey!”

Conrad lifted his head, blinking sleep from his eyes. The smile he gave Scott was nothing short of incandescent.

“Hey, Scottie,” he replied, his voice sounded almost as bad as Scott’s, “you’re awake. Really awake.”

“Yeah,” Scott got out in same soft raspy voice, he frowned, “what’s wrong with my voice?”

Conrad stared at him for a moment, then carefully said:

“From what I was told, you brought in in a lot of pain,” he swallowed convulsively, “a lot very loud screaming pain. You’ve strained your vocal cords, so maybe don’t talk so much?”

Scott opened his mouth to say _okay_ , thought better up it and just nodded.

Conrad summoned a nurse to check Scott over, and stood slightly away to given them room. That’s when Scott realized he was more seriously hurt than he realized. The nurse patted his shoulder and re-assured him that he would make a full recovery in time, but he needed to give himself that time. They promised a doctor would come by in the morning and give him a full run-down of what had happened to him.

Conrad came back to his chair once they left. 

He watched as Conrad pensively played with his wedding ring. Unlike Gordon and Penelope’s platinum bands, theirs were black and made out of a super-strong alloy; Scott knew he had heard titanium was in there somewhere. They had had Brains make them. They had their names etched into them in binary. Scott’s was a more traditional solid band, but he had made sure Conrad’s was a spinner ring, knowing that his husband needed to have something to fidget with. The other choice was have him put on the stiff persona of Lt. Colonel Turner/Captain Black when he was in public (and that was fine in certain situations,) But Scott wanted more people to see the Conrad he knew rather the iron mask Conrad had created in response to the inept upbringing by his negligent legal guardians. Having something to fidget and toy with made it harder for him to keep the walls up.

Gods knew Conrad had helped reveal a side of Scott to his brothers that they had never expected. They knew Scott was sometimes hot-headed and impulsive, yes. Had they known he had base-jumped off of Tracy Tower in New York City at midnight during a thunderstorm? No. Not until Conrad casually mentioned it while talking to the Mechanic. Scott smiled at the memory of his Dad immediately informing Alan that it was a stunt never to recreated, by anyone, ever. Scott could hear the echo of the dressing down he and Conrad had gotten way back when, then the envious _“What was it like?”_ from Dad once Mom and Grandma had left the room.

“I should call the rest of the family,” Conrad murmured, “tell them you're awake.”

“It can wait,” Scott said softly, “The circumstances may be shit, but I haven't had a chance to be alone with you in five weeks.”

“Pity we can't do much more than talk,” Conrad smiled, “but I'll take it. And I might be a around long enough for more.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, partial emergency family leave,” Conrad explained, “I will have all the joys of paperwork and sifting through data and none of the fun of running after people and shooting them. Means my LtK is suspended too. That may have been deliberate. Charles doesn’t want me going after Fishler and putting bullet between his eyes.”

“Fishler? Wait, Fishler! That…That! He could have killed those people!” Scott sputtered angrily, throat pain be damned, beginning to rise, before Conrad placed a hand on his shoulder, and pushed him back down on the bed in alarm.

“ _He almost killed you_ ,” Conrad snarled, then forced himself to calm down, “sorry, I’m sorry, it’s…it’s one thing when it’s natural disasters or even man-made disasters, or gods, even Ned Tedford,” he managed a weak chuckle, “We both know how dangerous our jobs are; people are monumentally stupid. We can deal with that,” he paused taking a breath, and then another, the snarl returning to his face, “But the persistent, willful, _repeated_ _**idiocy**_ of that man… and he has the nerve to be blaming _**you**_. He's out there, without a scratch, and he’s threatened to sue International Rescue. It will get laughed out of court… if it even gets to court, _**but suing you**_. When if you hadn’t…they all would have…and you….and you…”

Conrad just stopped, and lay his upper body down as he had been when Scott had woken up, breathing heavily.

“I don't get people like that, Scottie.”

Scott didn't answer, but he ran his fingers through Conrad's hair until they both fell back asleep.

Of course, it had to be Gordon who woke them up a few hours later.


	2. Study/Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble. Scott and Conrad having a study session very early on in their relationship - still hovering the tenuous line of friends and more than friends.

Scott tapped his tablet, and a diagram flared to life above it. It twisted and turned as he manipulated it with small, deft movements of his fingers. He consulted the text, turned it again, then consulted the text again. His brow furrowed as the hologram failed to illustrate the equation it supposedly represented.

“Hey Conrad,” he murmured, “Can you...”

Scott trailed off as he registered the heavy warmth against his flank and thigh, and looked down. Conrad was sound asleep against him.

Scott smiled fondly, set the tablet down, and wrapped his arm around his not quite yet boyfriend.


	3. Strange Humors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More college age nonsense. Watching Godzilla for research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author warnings: Mention of current events. Author's own strange sense of humor.

“Babe, why are we watching this again?” Scott asked, as _Gojira_ appeared on the virtual screen. He didn’t really mind watching the movie for the third time in a week, but he was getting nervous at the rather copious amount of notes Conrad was taking.

“Just making sure I didn’t miss anything,” Conrad responded, one hand typing, the other stealing some of Scott’s popcorn, “the TA is already miffed I pulled the legs out from under his pet theory, and he’s irritated that Professor Patel likes the premise of this paper: the ever-evolving allegory of the Godzilla film series, in particular the original film, and the Corvid-19 pandemic of 2020.”

“This is a ‘bored introvert’ thing?” Scott grinned, and moved his popcorn.

“Yep,” Conrad didn’t take his eyes off the screen as he reached for more popcorn, his hand landing in Scott’s lap. He snorted softly, paused the movie and looked at Scott, “I take you think there are other things to entertain a bored introvert?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Scott waggled his eyebrows.

“I do need to watch this again at some point this weekend,” Conrad smiled slowly.

“Sure.”

“Okay,” Conrad stopped the film and set his tablet aside, “now what?”

Scott pounced, and Conrad laughed.

* * *

**_Later_ **

Scott woke up and immediately bolted to his feet as an enormous maw readied to swallow him.

“Son of a bitch!”

It took him a moment to realize the virtual screen was now above the bed rather then against the wall and he was standing in the middle of it.

Conrad looked up at him from the bed and said mildly:

“No, Scottie, Minilla doesn't show up until _Son of Godzilla_.”

Scott stared at him for a minute, then lay back down on the bed.

“Babe,” he sighed affectionately, resting his head on Conrad's shoulder, “we've got to work on your sense of humor.”

“I thought we just did that?”

Scott closed his eyes and laughed.


	4. Thanksgiving, prt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected blizzard results into an unexpected first Thanksgiving for Scott and Conrad; now if Scott could only figure out if they're actually dating...

_New Haven, CT_

_Late 2047_

Scott was in a sour mood. It was bad enough that he had a professor who decided to hold an exam that was worth one third the course's final grade on the last possible day before Thanksgiving break, but the weather was conspiring to keep him from joining his family in New York City. A blizzard was threatening and it simply just would not be safe to fly, not even the short hop from New Haven to New York City. They were even shutting down the railways as precaution. Drive there? His Dad threatened to disown him if he did something so foolhardy.

It wasn’t like he’d be completely alone and forlorn in the dorms, but somehow a Thanksgiving dinner in the dining hall just didn’t do it for him. For one thing, without marshmallow fluff (banned because of an ‘incident’) you couldn’t sculpt Cap’n Crunchtm into a turkey.

“You could come over and stay at my place,” Conrad had finally said quietly, sitting on Scott’s bed and listening to him fuss and fume, “I was just planning on making turkey soup and a pie for dessert, but at least it wouldn’t be the dining hall. Worse comes to worse we’d get snowed in until Sunday.”

Now Scott felt a twinge of guilt. He still didn’t know whole story, but he did know Conrad was an orphan and he had just spent, of gods, forty-five minutes complaining about not being able to see his family now, when he would be able to be with them for nearly an entire month in just a few weeks. 

Conrad would be alone for winter break.

And Scott didn’t know how to feel about that. Asking Conrad to come stay with the Tracys could be a dangerous thing to do if the tabloids got wind of it, and potentially awkward since Scott still hadn’t figured out if they were dating or not. His mind drifted back to a call he had with his Mom only two days ago before the threat of the blizzard had blown up.

_“Hello Scott,” Lucy smiled as her eldest appeared on her phone, “how’s life?”_

_“Hi Mom,” Scott smiled back, and then frowned, “can you tell Dad and Kyrano to scale the ‘stalking’ back? I know you guys don’t want a repeat of last semester, and I know it’s for my own safety, but, uh, the agents they’ve hired are getting spotted, and it making Con…me paranoid.”_

_“Hmm, darling?” Lucy raised an eyebrow, pretended she misheard, and innocently asked, “who’s conning you?”_

_“Mommm,” Scott pouted._

_“Oh Scott, since you brought it up, yes, we don’t want a repeat of last semester, but you haven’t even told us who you’re dating yet, and we know you’re dating someone, sweetie. It’s just you’re usually running off at the mouth about them by now,” Lucy chuckled, “and you know Kyrano worries something fierce.”_

_“Yeah, but,” Scott sighed, and looked embarrassed, “that’s the thing, I don’t know if I’m dating someone right now.”_

_“What?!” it was a rare event that one of Lucy’s sons surprised her, and Scott almost wished he had his phone on record._

_“Yeah, Mom,” Scott shrugged, “I don’t know if I’m dating Conrad. And I know you know his name, date of birth and probably his favorite breakfast cereal, by now.”_

_“Scott, you’ve been running all around New Haven with him, eating together, you’ve even slept over at his apartment, and no I don’t want any more information than that, all but joined at the hip when you’re not in class for three weeks now, and you don’t know if you’re dating him?” (Years later Scott would hear that disbelieving tone echoed in John’s voice every now and again, and just miss their Mom so much.)_

_“Yep, that’s pretty much what I’ve been asking myself, and Mom, we were studying for a mid-term, I slept on his couch.”_

_Lucy stared at her son for a moment then face-palmed._

_“And now you’re afraid to ask right?”_

_“Not exactly an easy thing to bring up,” Scott admitted, “I mean, I wanna be dating, but I also don’t want to lose this friendship if I’m wrong. I know Conrad hasn’t had a lot of friends. Conrad’s…Conrad’s a little like John, I don’t think he quite catches all the social cues,” then Scott looked sharp again, “But he’s even better than I am at noticing people watching us a little too closely. He’s slightly paranoid that the GDF are checking up on him to make sure he’s going to live up to what they expect of him.”_

_“The GDF?”_

_“Kyrano must be slipping; yeah, the GDF,” Scott grinned, “he’s an officer candidate. They sent him here to the Law School. He studied undergraduate over in the UK and got his degree waaay early, Mom. He’s planning…”_

_Lucy listened to Scott babble on with a smile, this was how Scott normally acted about someone he was interested in._

“Scott? Earth to Scottie?”

_Oh_ he _liked_ when Conrad called him Scottie.

“Sorry, I, uh, I, uh, yeah, yeah, I’d like that,” Scott smiled, dimples out in full force.

Conrad eyed him for a moment before laughing a bit.

“Okay, so pack your things and let’s get over there before the snow really starts blowing.”


	5. Thanksgiving, prt 2

Conrad’s apartment was small. A small main room with a small kitchen area, a smaller bedroom (Scott’s reasonable sure it was originally a walk-in closet), and a bathroom. But it would definitely be better than staying in his college, and besides Conrad’s couch was large, probably too large for the space, and squashy and more comfortable that his bed in his dorm ever could dream of being.

Scott was slowly waking up on that squashy couch to a heavenly aroma. He didn’t remember falling asleep; he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. He remembered being absolutely astounded by the near solid wall of white blowing outside the windows. And he remembered hunkering down on the couch and watching one of the kaiju movies that Conrad was so fond of – a flying, fire-breathing turtle. But now he had a pillow tucked under his head and two soft warm blankets covering him, and the heavenly scent of spicy cooked apples wafting through the small apartment. Oh, there was a hint of bacon and coffee too. He could get use to waking up this way far too easily.

“You awake yet?” Conrad asked softly, leaning over the back of the couch to gently jostle Scott’s shoulder.

Scott pondered just replying, and just snuggling down further, but he yawned.

“Yeah. What smells so good?”

“Pie filling,” Conrad replied automatically, “You want some coffee?”

“Yeah,” Scott sat up and stretched, and found himself closer than he expected to Conrad.

And there was a moment when everything went perfectly still between them, and then Conrad was gone. Gone to get coffee, leaving Scott kicking himself. He should have done something. Maybe not kiss him, but push Conrad’s hair out of his eyes and let his hand linger on Conrad’s face, or even put a hand on his shoulder and hold him there just a fraction longer. Anything really. Anything that might give him a hint, or possibly give Conrad a clue.

When a mug of coffee and plate of French toast and bacon appeared in his eyeline, Scott turned so he properly sitting on the couch, and took both gratefully, setting the coffee on a small side-table. He forked up a bit of french toast, then another, and before he realized it he wolfed done the lot of it. 

“Where did you learn how to cook?”

“One of the au pairs liked to cook and let me help her. I developed a love of cooking and baking from her; very useful when I was on my own,” Conrad laughed, “Delfina was also so appalled at what the Legals were feeding me, that she made sure before she left that I had a lot of child friendly cook-books stashed away,” he sighed, “she was one of the ones that didn’t last long.”

“The Legals?” Scott ask hesitantly.

“My legal guardians,” and Scott could hear the disdain and pain in Conrad’s voice, “allegedly they raised me. I saw them maybe once a week in passing, and actually spoke with them once in a blue moon. Usually telling me what a burden I was and a weird one at that. I don’t know why they took me on, they never wanted children anyway.”

The finality of that statement was a like the chop of an axe.

“How did you sleep?” Conrad switched subjects, leaving Scott to try and respond while processing what Conrad had just revealed as little as it had been.

“Uh, good, you know I want to steal this couch and take it back to my dorm.”

“Couldn’t get it up the stairs, Scottie,” Conrad snorted.

“How did you get it up the stairs?” Scott challenged.

“Arcane rituals of dark engineering.”

Scott laughed.

“So that heavenly aroma I’m smelling is pie filling?”

“Yep, I was originally was going to make a sweet potato pie, but then you got stuck here, and I remember you saying something about apple pie being your favorite,” Conrad shrugged, “I thought you should have one thing that you’d usually have.”

“Thank you,” Scott was genuinely touched that Conrad remembered something he had just barely mentioned in passing, “Sweet potato pie? Don’t like pumpkin I take it?”

“No, not at all,” Conrad chuckled, “Well, not if the pumpkin pulp comes from a can, and sugar pumpkins are pain find sometimes.”

“Sugar pumpkins?”

“Bred for pie-making, about yay-big,” Conrad made a roughly eighteen-centimeter orb shape with his fingers, “sweeter than a typical pumpkin. Just a sec,' and Conrad rushed off, leaving Scott wondering if he was actually going to get an example.

Instead Scott heard some relieved muttering from the stove, and then Conrad came back.

“Didn’t want that filling burning; you wouldn’t get your pie.”

* * *

_Later That Day._

So, it wasn’t the usual Thanksgiving feast Scott usually had with his family, but the Thai-inspired turkey noodle soup had been excellent, and the apple pie was one of the best Scott had ever tasted. He did miss some of the traditional sides, but he wasn’t going to complain.

It was still snowing, and the weather service was warning that the blizzard was going to last longer than was originally thought, at least until through Saturday.

“I don’t think I can get back to the college in this. I might be here a while,” Scott gestured to the window as he relaxed back into the sofa, “if that’s okay?”

“I _did_ say the worst thing that could happen is you get stuck here until Sunday, and I don’t want to face what your family would do to me if I let you try to go out there,” Conrad snorted, and settled on the couch himself. Close enough to Scott that Scott could easily reach over and pull him to his side. But without the excuse of Conrad falling asleep, as he had done once, Scott didn’t know if he could or even should.

So, they sat there, the only sound the muffled roaring on the wind outside, watching the snow dancing and blotting out the rest of the world. Scott took a deep breath and began to turn to Conrad, when his phone blared out:

**_IT’SFAMILYTIME!IT’SFAMILYTIME!IT’SFAMILYTIME!_** Over and over again in the most obnoxious and loud synthesized voice possible. 

Conrad startled and looked at the phone like it was bomb about to go off. He hurriedly got off the couch and pointed to his bedroom.

“I’ll just, uhm, go, uhm yeah,” and he retreated into his bedroom, closing the door.

Scott was going to kill Gordon for programing that ringtone into his phone for Dad’s number.

Still he answered with a joyful.

“Hi guys!”

Because all of his family was in the call’s projection field, and after the first few chaotic moments he able to a few moments with each member, although Alan was cuddled against their Mom.

Most of the questions had been if he had eaten dinner (Yes, and it had been very good, although Gordon was disdainful of the notion of having just soup for Thanksgiving) and if he was warm and safe (yes, and with his best friend, well what else could he call Conrad at the moment? and he had had to endure a knowing eyebrow and wink from his Mother, and a bit of glare from Kyrano.) He did think his chat with Virgil was a little odd, Virgil being more truculent than he usually was, but Scott couldn’t give it much thought before he was handed off to John, who dutifully gave him a truthful run down, and mentioned he had to handle a few bullies bothering Virgil.

Most people upon meeting John and Virgil, typically thought John would be the one who had to deal with bullies, but really all John had to do was tilt his head, smile puzzledly, and **look** at the attempted bully – even the densest of bullies’ lizard brain started screaming that was exactly the bemused look the big thing with the teeth and the claws gave before swatting them with a massive paw.

Virgil, kind Virgil was an easier target. That he had no problem letting his gentle and artistic side show and unfortunately that was catnip to sneakier, cleverer bullies. Scott use to intercede, and now John stepped up, although John’s methods were subtler.

“…also Gordon finally realized the lobsters in the restaurant’s tank weren’t just for display,” John said with exasperation, “we had a bathtub full of lobsters last night after a midnight ‘rescue’ mission.”

Scott snorted and smiled fondly.

“He still had one with dinner, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” John smiled himself, “ah, Dad wants the phone back now. See you at Christmas Scott!”

Jeff Tracy appeared in the projection field, affection and worry warring on his features.

“You gonna be able to get back to your room safely?” he asked, every inch the concerned Father, and not without due cause, “The snow still bad here and they say it’s worse in New Haven.”

“I’m going to stay put. Conrad’s fine with me staying with him as long as I need to,” Scott replied, realizing maybe he should have phrased that differently.

“Is he now?” Jeff gave a slight chuckle.

“Dad,” Scott groaned, then softly continued, “like I told Mom I just don’t know if Conrad’s interested.”

“Scott,” Jeff sighed, “just ask him. If he’s the guy you think he is, even if he isn’t interested, I don’t think he’ll take offence.”

“You’ve never met him,” Scott reminded his Father, “you’ve just read reports.”

Jeff winced.

“Just talk to him, Scott.”

A few more moments wrapped up the call, everyone once again on the line saying their farewells.

With the quiet restored, Conrad cautiously stepped back into his living room.

“Good call?”

“Yeah, good call,” Scott nodded, and thought for a moment about what his Dad had said. There really was no time like the present, and Jeff _was_ right: he just needed to ask, “my Dad gave me some advice. I need to ask you something.”

Conrad looking a bit worried, gestured with his hand for Scott to continue.

Scott took a deep breath and rose from the couch.

“Are we dating?”

Conrad blinked, then he started to laugh, but he was smiling and nodding.

“I’m glad you asked that,” he admitted, “I never would have the courage. I mean you did flirt with me back when you first admired my bike, but some people are just like that and I wasn’t certain and…” he continued to babble, until Scott actually covered his mouth with his hand.

“Yes, or No, Conrad,” Scott stared into Conrad’s eyes, “I know I want to be dating you, but I need to know if you feel the same.”

Conrad stared back for a moment and then raised an eyebrow, tilting his head a little.

“Oh, right,” Scott removed his hand.

“Yes, definitely Yes.”

They both sighed in relief, looked at each other and laughed. What are pair of idiots they were.

Hopefully a matched pair though.

“Where do we go from here?”

“Keep doing what we’ve been doing?”

“Good plan.”


	6. Shadows Cast By Joy Are Always The Darkest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the best of news can give rise to the unpleasant self-revelations.  
> Jeff Tracy is back from the dead, Conrad isn't certain how to deal with that.

“That’s fantastic Scott!” Conrad enthused watching Scott vibrate with excitement and joy over the phone.

“Yeah,” Scott looked completely and utterly happy, a man with an enormous weight lifted off his shoulders, “you need come to the Island, I know Dad would want to see you.”

“I’ll…I’ll come as soon as I can,” Conrad said, “things are reaching a critical a point here, I’m afraid. Charles will have my hide if I just up and leave not matter how wonderful the reason.”

“Okay,” Scott grinned, “see you soon, babe!”

Once the hologram winked out, Conrad sat perfectly still, then slammed his fist against the top of his desk. He took deep breath and continued on as normal. He had work to do, anything else just have to wait until he had the time for it.

* * *

“Are you feeling well?” Admiral Charles Gray asked, catching Conrad before he left the finished meeting.

“I’m fine, Sir” Conrad said, mentally reviewing his actions and what he said. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Charles raised a regal eyebrow. He would never admit it to Conrad, but Conrad was even more stiff and efficient than usual when something was bothering him.

“Okay,” Conrad lowered his voice and leaned in, “as far as I know it hasn’t been announced to the general public or even most of the GDF, but IR was successful in rescuing Jeff Tracy. He’s home on Tracy Island.”

“That is good news,” Charles observed warmly, but neutrally.

“It’s wonderful news,” Conrad nodded.

“Yes.”

Charles watched his assistant director retreat his office with slightly narrowed eyes. A call to Juliette might be in order.

* * *

Conrad finished his work and went home. He made dinner. He took a shower. He went to bed.

And after two and half hours of staring at the ceiling, he got up with a sigh and went to make a cup of tea. While it steeped, he returned to the bedroom and got a small old plush tuxedo cat, that was in better condition than a well-loved stuffed animal over thirty years old had any right to be. 

Taking both tea and cat, he sat down at his kitchen table. He set the cat in front of him, and gently squeezed the left ear. A man’s voice seemed to fill the air around him, and he smiled bitterly, before replaying the message again. Edgar Turner had recorded it the day he and Isabella Turner had died in a terrorist bombing. The plush cat was the last gift he had ever given his son.

_“Hey Conrad, this is your Dad, and this is F-14! Your Mum thinks I should wait until you’re old enough to name him yourself, but I’m pretty certain you’ve gotten my sense of humor. F-14 will take care you while your Mum and I are out. Don’t ever worry though, we’ll be back. We love you. We’ll always love you.”_

Conrad took in a ragged breath, and then another, before he started to cry.

“I did get your sense of humor, Dad, at least I think I did. F-14 _is_ a perfect name for a cat.”

He took a sip with a tea, and wiped at his tears.

This just wasn’t going to work. He needed more than tea.

Conrad reached over and grabbed the all-purpose data-pad he kept to jot down notes, make grocery lists and for various and other sundry reasons. Right now he was going to something he hadn’t done in years. ‘Talk’ through his feelings – he started doing it when he was a child still living with his legal guardians and they had been as useful as a raincoat on a fish for helping him figure out his feelings.

He picking up the stylus, he started to write.

* * *

**What Happened?**

_Scott Rescued his father._

(No)

_~~Scott Rescued his father.~~ _

_Scott got his father back_

(Closer)

_Scott got his father back from the dead._

(Bingo! We have a winner!)

**~~Why Is This An Issue?~~ **

(Can’t face that yet)

**How Do You Feel About It?**

_Happy_

_Thankful_

_Jealous_

_Resentful_

_Angry at Scott (Why does he get to have this miracle?)_

_Angry at Myself_

_Disgusted with Myself_

**~~Why Is This An Issue?~~ **

(Still can’t face that)

**Why Can’t You Face It?**

_It hurts too much_

**Even After All These Years?**

_Yes_

**It Isn’t Fair Is It?**

_That’s a stupid question. The life isn’t fair and never has been._

**If You’ve Accepted That Then Why Does It Still Hurt?**

**Well?**

**Why Is Jeff Tracy Being Alive An Issue?**

_Because I want my own parents to be alive. And with both of his parents dead it felt like it was even between Scott and me. And I hate myself for feeling like that because it’s a horrible thing to think and I should be overjoyed that Scott’s got his Dad back, but_

**But?**

_I want my Dad back. I want to have more than F-14’s message. I want more than F-14 to talk to. I want a chance to just to even get to know my Dad. My Mom. It’s not fair._

**As You Observed Life’s Not Fair. How Do You Feel Now?**

_Gross, disgusting, a horrible selfish excuse for a human being._

_Sad._

**Do You Think You Should Talk To Someone?**

_Yes_

**Who?**

_~~Scott~~ _

_~~Charles and/or Rose~~ _

_~~Juliette~~ _

**You Need To Talk To Someone.**

_I’ll decide in the morning._

**You Mean You’ll Just Use Having A ‘New Perspective’ In the Morning To Not Deal With This, Don’t You?**

_Now I remember why I stopped doing this._

**Do You Want To Be In A Relationship With Scott Tracy? Even With All The Baggage That Comes With It?**

_Yes_

**Why?**

**Well?**

**Why?**

**You _Need_ To Talk To Someone.**

* * *

Conrad set the stylus down, and sat back in his chair.

There was the crux of the problem. He needed to talk this through with someone and he didn’t feel like he could burden the few friends he had, or let them see how selfish and horrible he was being, or even begin to try to explain just why he loved Scott so much and what was so lovable about Scott he could forgive what Scott had done or face this new upsetting revelation about himself. Getting an appointment with a therapist wasn’t feasible at such short notice, and he didn’t need that on his record at this point in time. In a few months when Spectrum was up and running, yes, but right now? 

Not a good idea.

Dawn found Conrad still staring at the data-pad, and hugging F-14 to his chest.

And the news of Jeff Tracy’s miraculous resurrection was spreading like wild-fire throughout the world.


	7. Scott and Juliette meet...oh dear...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott Tracy and Juliette Pontoin are having a yelling match in his living room, Conrad wonders if he can hide forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I head-canon Juliette as aro-ace.

Hell was breaking loose in his living room. At least that’s what it sounded like to Conrad’s still mostly asleep mind. Two voices shouting at each other. One probably a woman with a decidedly Parisian accent, the other a man with an American accent who the more awake part of Conrad’s mind tagged: Oh gods not now.

Only four people, aside from himself, had access codes to enter his home. Charles and Rose Gray. Juliette Pontoin. Scott Tracy. 

The accents alone ruled out Charles and Rose.

Conrad had deliberately chosen to not introduce Juliette and Scott to one another just yet. There were some people you just want to meet under controlled circumstances. Like adding acid to water. Especially when they were two people you loved very much.

And now they were arguing in his living room. 

(What was Scott doing there any way? He should be with his Dad catching up on lost time.)

Conrad had eventually called in sick (and given the amount of sick leave he had, he was quite certain HR was sighing in relief that he was actually using some,) turned off his phone, wandered back to his bed and fell into a fitful sleep clutching F-14 to his chest. Eventually his sleep had even out to a deep restful one, but it was making it hard for him to wake up, even with the shouting in his living room.

Finally, he was conscious enough to get up and stagger down the hall to the door to the living room. It swung open just enough for him to see Scott and Juliette glaring at each other in a lull, and…he had forgotten about that stupid data-pad. Which was now in Scott’s hands.

Conrad pulled the door shut and engaged the internal locking mechanism; even if they could find the opening mechanism on the shelves on the other side, they wouldn’t be able to open it. 

Then he went back to bed and hid his head under the pillows hoping it was all just a bad dream.

* * *

They both scrabbled to catch the bookshelf door before it closed, but they managed to collide into one another and neither got there in time to stop the closure.

Juliette untangled herself, and then sat down on a couch with weary resignation.

“I do not suppose you know how to open that door?” she asked, eying Scott.

“I was just about to ask you,” he replied, bending down and retrieving the data-pad from where he dropped it, “you are his best friend,” he stressed irritated, as she had expounded on that during their yelling match.

“Conrad,” Juliette started, then slumped with a sigh, “Conrad has many protective walls, some mental and emotional, others,” she gestured to the wall-spanning bookcase, “physical. The only person I know of who knows how to open that door, other than Conrad himself, is Rose Gray, and unless we have concrete reason to believe Conrad will harm himself, she will not tell us.”

Scott groaned.

“Why did you not leave when I told you to?” Juliette asked, “you are the last person he wants to see right now.”

The look Scott gave the ash blonde woman would have incinerated anyone else, but he thought back on why he was there in the first instead of back on Tracy Island with his Dad and family. He had tried to call Conrad and gotten his voicemail so many times. He tried Conrad’s office and was told Conrad was out sick. He tried Conrad’s personal phone again, and again voicemail. It just wasn’t like Conrad.

So he had, with his Dad’s encouragement, gone to check on Conrad.

And found a tiny, exquisitely beautiful woman sitting at Conrad’s kitchen table with a cup of coffee, staring pensively at a data-pad. It had taken him a moment to place who she was – Juliette Pontoin was even more elusive than the Tracys on the media scene. She had looked up hopefully at him, frowned, and ordered him to leave.

He had tried explain that he just wanted to make sure Conrad was all right.

She, again, ordered him to leave.

It had gone downhill from there. Especially after he had read what was on the data-pad.

“Because,” Scott spoken carefully, measuredly, “I can’t fix this,” he gestured to the data-pad, “without talking it out with Conrad.”

Juliette took a deep breath, let it out, and took another, before replying:

“ ** _You_** are part of the problem,” her voice was equally controlled, “Conrad does need to talk it out, _and_ to eventually talk it out with you. However right now _you_ will only make things worse. He needs talk it out with someone who is mostly impartial.”

Juliette shook her head.

“Up to fifteen minutes ago I would have claimed to be that person,” she muttered in French, “my god what a mess.”

“It’s only a mess because we woke Conrad up,” Scott settled himself in an armchair.

Juliette only gave a faint wintery smile.

“He woke up and saw that you had read what he had wrote. It would have been bad enough for him to know I had read it, but now his walls will be up, and they will be thick, and breaking through them will take skill and delicacy and tact.”

“I can do skill, delicacy, and tact,” Scott groused.

She studied him for quite some time, her cool brown eyes assessing him as she would a pilot she was considering hiring. Scott fidgeted, unnerved by and unused to the intensity of her scrutiny; in general when people looked at him, it was usually with faint tinge of awe.

“You over-estimate yourself. You do not currently know him as well as you think you do. You cannot fix this.”

Juliette held up her hand to forestall Scott’s response.

“He loves you and has since he was eighteen. It has been his constant and guiding star, and it has been a painful festering unhealing wound. Conrad’s capacity for love is astounding, and I am forever grateful for the love he gives me, but you and I both know he had no stable basis, no true example of how to love until very late in his life. No idea that he was worthy of being loved himself,” she looked vaguely envious as she said, “You are an extraordinary person, Scott Tracy, to have helped Conrad build so many bridges that he didn’t even realize he needed. He would not be the man he is today, nor capable of the extraordinary things he has done and will do, without having met you. The day you met you somehow immediately threw him a lifeline he didn’t know he needed.”

“He has told me you two have discussed your most annoying habits at length in the past. Conrad’s is that he may not lie, but he will omit things from the truth. I know that bad habit of his well. Do you remember what he has said was most annoying of yours?”

Scott shook his head mutely, drawing a blank.

“You try to fix everything, especially for the people you love, and get angry, get frustrated when you cannot. This is something you cannot fix. At least not without a time machine,” that faint smile again, “and then you and Conrad may not have ever met,” she leaned over and took one of his hands in her small strong hands, “and for all the pain and conflict he may feel, I know that the man he is now would never choose two people he has never known, no matter how much he wish he could have known them, over you.”

“But right here, right now, you cannot fix this. Conrad needs to face this, and deal with it,” she tightened her grip, not painfully, but firmly, “and he will not do it alone, I promise, but it can’t be you.”

Scott looked her straight in the eye.

“When Conrad first mentioned you, I felt jealous,” he said ruefully, “I’m still jealous, especially now. I’m also grateful that Conrad’s has a friend like you.”

“His best friend,” she smiled impishly.

“We’ll see about that,” but there was no rancor in Scott’s voice, “did you really draw circles in his bathroom?”

“Oui! It was his living space, he should live in it,” she withdrew her hand with a laugh.

They both rose from their seats.

“Tell Conrad that when he’s ready to give me a call,” was all Scott said as he left, all he could say.

“I will,” Juliette promised.

* * *

_A few hours later_

The bookshelf swung open, and Conrad cautiously looked out. Only Juliette remained, having made herself, as usual, at home on his couch.

“I suppose it wasn’t just a nightmare that Scott was here?” he asked.

“No,” she shook her head, and patted the couch beside her, “but we had a talk, once we were done yelling at each other. I helped him realize that, right now was not a good time.”

“Ah,” he flopped down next to her, “is he mad at me?”

And this was one of those moments Juliette really wished Conrad would let her go after those miserable excuses for legal guardians he had. 

“No, he wanted to try fix everything,” Juliette pulled him over so his head rested in her lap, and looked down at him, “he’s annoying. I finally see why you like him.”

“He does have his good points.”

“I suppose he does; when you are ready he would like you to call him.”

Conrad winced.

“He does love you,” she assured him as she began carding her fingers through his hair, “Do you want to talk now?”

“No.”

“Should I call in an order for some food then?”

“Ramen?” he asked hopefully.

Juliette rolled her eyes, but chuckled.

“If that is what you want, my dear.”

* * *

It didn’t quite go so smoothly on Tracy Island.

“Scott?” Jeff raised an eyebrow, he had been vaguely hoping Scott would be bringing Conrad back with him.

Scott shook his head.

“It’s complicated, he needs time.”

That probably would have been the end of it, except Scott heard Virgil say quietly and scornfully.

“It’s not like it’s the first time he’s flaked out on you.”

And for the first time in his life, Scott deliberately hauled back and gave one of his little brothers a black eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry I love Virgil, but for some reason he seems to dislike Conrad.

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt from [Just Another Fly Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Flygirl/pseuds/Just_Another_Flygirl).  
> Not quite certain if it satisfies it tho'.


End file.
